


Voltron Coffee

by zjofierose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura Runs The Show, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee Shops, First Kiss, Holidays, Hunk is a cinnamon roll, Keith and Lance are hopeless, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Violence, Pidge is a genius, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Shiro doesn't get paid enough for this shit, Shiro is a coffeeshop manager, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 02:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: Hunk is never in charge of hiring again, Shiro thinks quietly to himself, because he can already tell these two are going to be a hot mess. (aka the inevitable coffeeshop fic, with a side of holiday feels)





	Voltron Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> somehow in 80 fics and 8 years of writing, I have never written a Coffeeshop Fic. now i have. hooray?

“New pair of ‘em in today,” Allura tosses over her shoulder as she zips through the door in a waft of unseasonably cold air. Shiro rubs his hands over his face. Five thirty in the morning is too goddamn early for him to have to be thinking about how to train the new holiday help. 

“Did we really need more?” He asks sadly, accepting the warm cup she shoves into his hands and tossing half of it back fast. 

“Seriously?  _ Yes _ . Remember last Christmas Eve?” Shiro shudders, and Allura raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s what I thought.” She flips her hair out from her coat collar, winding it fast and tight into a bun on the top of her head. “They’ll be in at ten, after the morning rush has hopefully died down a bit. Get ‘em trained up good, and with a little luck we’ll avoid any holiday meltdowns this year.”

Shiro sighs absently into his cup. That seems like a lofty goal, but, he can’t argue with at least trying to reach it. He downs the remainder of his drink and stands up to tie on his apron.

\--

“Good morning! I’m Takashi Shirogane, but you can call me Shiro. I’m one of the managers here, and I’ll be in charge of training you.” He gives the two new guys his most winning smile. They look all of eighteen, in spite of what their applications say. “What are your names?”

“I’m Lance!”, the skinnier one replies, bouncing excitedly on his toes. He grins cheerfully back at Shiro, and props an elbow on the other guy’s shoulder. The other guy scowls and promptly rolls it off, letting Lance fall off balance. “Here to rake in the dough and wow the ladies with my specialty beverage game!”, Lance adds, recovering quickly to making finger-guns at Shiro, who resists the urge to roll his eyes and turns instead to the other guy. While similar in height and size, the two resemble each other in basically no other way: Lance is almost confrontationally cheerful, but his companion is silent, body language closed off and cold. Shiro wonders what he thinks he’s doing applying for a customer service job.

“I’m Keith,” the guy says, scowling up through a mess of dark hair. Hunk is never in charge of hiring again, Shiro thinks quietly to himself, because he can already tell these two are going to be a hot mess. 

\--

“Keith’s resume is actually really good!” Hunk pleads, his hands up in the air when Shiro corners him later. “I know he’s not the friendliest, but…”

“Not the  _ friendliest _ ?” Shiro shoves a hand into his hair and pulls. “He just told off old lady Crawford for ordering, and I quote, ‘ _ the dumbest sugar-laden fake-flavored monstrosity of the season _ ’.” 

Hunk cringes. “Look, maybe he can just make drinks? Maybe he and Lance can be a team- Lance loves talking to the customers!”

“Yes, he does,” Shiro agrees, “certain customers in particular, even,” he adds, stepping aside so Hunk can see how Lance is draped across the counter talking to two young women, blatantly ignoring the line that’s formed behind them. 

Hunk sighs. “I’m sorry, Shiro. They were the best of a bad batch of applicants. I knew we needed to hire, and there was just no one else; it’s too late in the season.” He hangs his head, and Shiro wilts. It’s hard to stay mad at Hunk; he’s smart, he’s kind, he means well. And, at the end of the day, Shiro’s the manager here - it’s up to him to either make this work or find a better plan. He pats Hunk on the shoulder and re-ties his apron determinedly. He’s going to figure this out.

\--

“So, I don’t have to take orders?” The look on Keith’s face is still surly, but there’s a hint of relief poking out around the edges, and Shiro resolutely squashes the small flutter in his chest that springs from how nice Keith looks when he relaxes for a second. 

“That’s right,” Lance beams, knocking his shoulder into Keith’s. “You just leave the people-skills to ol’ Lancey-Lance here.” He claps a hand to Shiro’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, boss-man, we’ll have the most satisfied customers you’ve ever seen!”

Shiro waits until they’ve both turned their backs before he lets himself pull a tired hand down his face and sigh. It’ll be fine, he tells himself, it’ll all be fine.

\--

It  _ is  _ all fine, to Shiro’s delighted and continual surprise: Keith turns out to be a whiz at making multiple drinks at once, never forgetting what he’s doing, never getting the measurements wrong. He’s discriminating about the coffee he uses, which leads to him actually taking apart and fixing one of the machines so that it doesn’t over-roast the beans, thus bringing improved drink quality across the board. The split in responsibilities prompts Lance to speed up his work, what with Keith making drinks faster than Lance can take the orders and nagging him incessentantly if Lance is dragging down the show. He also shows a real flair for arranging Hunk’s pastries in the display case so that they sell even faster than before. 

Shiro praises them both, earning an ear-to-ear cocky grin from Lance and a ducked-head look of pleased embarrassment from Keith, and then tries not to interfere in whatever strangely functional partnership they’ve managed to establish. Christmas is closer every day, and he’s not looking any gift unicorns in the mouth.

\--

Two weeks in, Shiro catches Keith experimenting during a slow afternoon, a range of small sampler cups around him.

“What’s this?” he asks, and Pidge looks up at him in surprise, pushing her glasses up her nose. 

“Keith was telling me about a drink he used to make at his old cafe, and I wanted to try it.” She answers, picking up one of the cups and holding it out to Shiro to taste. “This is the control. Our coffee’s a different ph balance than theirs was, so after he made the first one, we started experimenting to see if we could improve it.”

Shiro takes the cup, and gives it an appraising sniff. “Is that cinnamon?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, looking up at Shiro shyly. He’s got his hair tied back today, which only serves to highlight his striking eyes, and Shiro forces himself to refocus on the cup in his hand. Down the path of being attracted to your coworkers lie lawsuits, he reminds himself, especially if you’re management. He brings the cup to his mouth and takes a careful sip, ignoring the intensity of Keith’s eyes on his lips. 

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” he says in amazement as the flavor bursts across his tongue, and Pidge cackles with glee. 

“That’s what  _ I  _ said,” she crows, and high fives Keith before shoving two more cups into Shiro’s hands. “Here, rinse your mouth, then try this variation. It’s my favorite so far.”

Shiro tries not to let his eyes linger on the pink that tints Keith’s cheeks at the praise, distracting himself by taking a drink from the second cup and making a frankly embarrassing noise that has Pidge laughing so hard she nearly falls off her perch on the counter while Keith chokes hard on air. 

An hour later, they’ve got a new drink recipe, a name, and a signboard with multi-colored art courtesy of Lance. Hunk’s considering options for a pastry he could pair with the new creation, and is already sifting flour excitedly. Allura takes home the leftovers from the taste tests, _ just to make sure we picked the best one, guys _ , and to let Coran in on the surprise. 

Shiro hasn’t been this happy about his job in years.

\--

They start selling a different Keith Koncoction every other day. 

It’s great for business - Allura, with Lance’s help, makes social media posts of aesthetic set-ups featuring Keith’s latest beverage and Hunk’s accompanying pastries. She sneaks in a couple of Keith himself, artsily captured with his hair tied back and a look of concentration as he deftly mixes the ingredients. Pidge compiles stats on sales and interest, conferring with Keith as he starts on his next creation, analyzing the trends of what people want and when. Shiro… does his best to keep everything running. He makes sure they’ve got enough inventory for Keith and Hunk to experiment freely; he checks and double-checks the stockroom so that they don’t run out of cups or lids or napkins or drink caddies. He schedules Keith and Lance for the busiest parts of the day, leaving himself, Allura, and Pidge on mop-up duty and openings. He empties the trash and cleans the floor and wipes the counters, and generally does all he can to make sure that everyone has everything they could possibly need to keep doing what they’re doing at maximum efficiency. 

It’s good. Coran pulls him aside at the beginning of December and tells him if business keeps booming, they’ll all be getting holiday bonuses, which is a pleasant surprise. Shiro negotiates with him to ensure that Keith and Hunk will get an extra amount, since the added business is basically directly a result of their genius, and goes home with the happy feeling that comes from knowing you’re going to be able to give your employees good news. He collapses into bed, and if he dreams of Keith smiling at him as he passes him a fresh cup of coffee, well, no one needs to know but him.

\--

“ _ Keith _ ,” Shiro hears Lance hiss as he walks into the store after his break one afternoon, “you can’t just  _ do  _ that!”

“Do what?” Shiro asks mildly, hanging up his coat and looking between them both. They fold their arms simultaneously, and Shiro wants to laugh, but one look at the distress on Keith’s face makes him pause. 

“Keith,” Lance says, pointing first at his coworker and then vaguely in the direction of the customers, “doesn’t appreciate fangirls. Or boys. He’s got a whole flock of followers, and all they want is to talk to him, and he just snubs them!”

Keith looks pleadingly up at Shiro. “I just want to make drinks. They’re trying to…”

“They’re trying to  _ flirt  _ with you, numbnuts,” Lance fills in, and Shiro raises a hand to pause him, turning to Keith for explanation. 

“They make me uncomfortable,” Keith mumbles, dropping his head. Shiro looks out at the patrons milling around the store. Sure enough, there’s a small knot of giggling teens and 20-somethings clustered a few feet away from the pick-up counter, taking selfies with their drinks and making eyes at Keith. It’d be pretty funny if Keith weren’t so obviously and completely discomfited.

“Okay,” Shiro says, exhaling and running a hand through his hair. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Lance, you live for this. You’re on interference.”

“But, they want K…” Lance starts, and Shiro shakes his head hard. 

“Not everyone is comfortable with the same level of attention you are. So, help your co-worker out. You can set out drinks whenever you’re not taking an order, and if you see someone hassling him, intervene, okay?” 

Lance rolls his eyes, but nods in agreement, so Shiro turns his attention to Keith. 

“Keith, I get that you’re not a people person, but customer service is technically a part of the job.”

“I know,” Keith sighs, and looks so crestfallen that Shiro wants to give him a hug. 

“It’s alright,” Shiro says, “hang back and let Lance and me cover for you as much as we can. That’s fine. But when we’re truly slammed, I do need you to be able to put out the drinks and be polite, okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith sighs, staring at his toes.

“Hey,” Shiro says, waiting till Keith looks up at him. “If someone in particular is harassing you or really making you uncomfortable, walk away. Come get me. Your job is to give them their coffee, not your number, not your dating status. I do need you to be polite, but I don’t need you to be their friend. Got it?”

Keith nods, his shoulders relaxing a little bit, and Shiro gives them both his best and brightest smile, settling a hand on both their shoulders. 

“We got this, guys. We got this.”

\--

It smoothes over for a while, or at least it seems to. Keith hides behind Hunk and Lance and Shiro, and the fans are mostly chill about it. There are a couple of them who are a little more persistent, but Shiro makes a point to give them the hairy eyeball as frequently as possible, and they pretty much get the message. 

It was inevitable that something would give, he thinks later, because it was all going too well. But at the time, he’s focused on keeping the store ticking over as holiday season rushes forward like an avalance. He’s lost in a haze of ginger-scented caramel success, giving his all every day and going home to collapse at night, rising again in the dark of the early morning to start it all again.

\--

It’s mid-December when he joins Keith out back for a smoke break, trying not to stare as Keith’s long fingers ferry the cigarette to and from his generous mouth. Keith seems taciturn, even for him, and Shiro’s a little concerned. Keith’s latest drink is the most popular so far, hints of caramel mixed with cocoa and cardamom, yet he’s been even surlier than usual. But, the holidays can be hard, Shiro thinks, and often for reasons that are no one else’s business, so he lets it lie. 

“Aren’t you freezing?” Keith asks, staring blatantly at Shiro’s bare forearms and derailing Shiro’s train of thought. He’s bundled into one of those heavy flannel jackets, but Shiro can see his hand shaking with cold. 

Shiro thinks for a second, blows out a cloud of breath into the early morning air. “Not really?” he answers, “it’s above freezing, I don’t usually bother with a coat unless it’s below that.”

Keith just shakes his head in disbelief, and scoots closer. Shiro hesitates briefly, then gives in and wraps his arm around Keith’s shoulder, pulling him in tight. He fits perfectly, and Shiro can feel the way his muscles relax as Shiro’s body heat permeates them. It’s friendly, he tells himself.

“Guess I just run hot,” Shiro chuckles as the door behind them opens.

“That’s what she said,” Lance crows, dancing around in front of them to scowl at Keith. “Hey. Mullet. Has ass-face been bothering you again?”

Shiro frowns, turning to try and catch Keith’s expression, hidden as it is behind his long hair.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Keith mumbles, and Shiro gives him a squeeze.

“Hey, if someone’s bugging you, come get me. Don’t just ignore it,” he says with concern, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, dude,” Lance says, “Shiro’d put the fear of all the gods in him. You just gotta point him out.”

“No,” Keith shakes his head hard, and glares at them both. “It’s not a big deal. I can handle it.”

“Okay,” Lance says, raising his hands in surrender and rolling his eyes, “you do you, brah. I’m just sayin’, don’t be dumb.” He backs away, heading for the door. “‘s fuckin’ cold out here, dorks. Come back inside!”

Shiro waits until he’s disappeared before giving Keith another squeeze. “You sure you’re alright?” he asks in a low tone.

Keith slides out from under his arm, pulling his jacket close around him. “I’m fine, Shiro,” he says, ducking his chin as he starts to shiver. “The guy’s just some bigmouth. Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Shiro thinks, but if that’s what Keith wants, that’s what he’ll try to do. He stands up, dusts off his hands, and holds one out to pull Keith up. Keith comes up easily, and they head inside, Shiro’s hand warm on Keith’s shoulder.

\--

Christmas Eve dawns, and while it’s not  _ technically  _ the end of the holiday season (they get a surprising amount of New Year’s Day folks up and ready to conquer the new year with a mug full of caffeine), it definitely marks a turning point in the level of  _ busy  _ the shop experiences. Shiro thinks longingly as he opens up of his plans for the next day, which include sleeping as late as he can and spending the entire day in his sweatpants. Maybe he’ll make himself some of his aunt’s macaroni casserole, or maybe he’ll just eat the rest of the leftover pizza that’s already in his fridge. It’s nice to have options, he thinks, and turns on the twinkling Christmas lights in the windows. 

Allura shows up five minutes later, and together they brace for the wave. Hunk’s been baking since two in the morning, and where he’d normally head home at ten am, he’s agreed to work a double to keep them well-stocked. They’ll close at eight this evening, but it’s likely to be busy right up until close. Keith and Pidge had already laid out all the ingredients for Keith’s final specialty drink of the season (Mistletoe Mayhem) before they went home last night so they could come in and start rolling first thing. The store’s as ready as it’ll ever be, and Shiro hopes against hope that they can keep up with demand without anyone coming to blows. 

The morning goes smoothly, customers coming and going, most of them still cheerful, even if a few are looking a little frantic around the edges. Shiro and his team smile and hand them warm sweet things, which always improves everyone’s mood, and Shiro is just so proud of how well everyone’s learned to work together. He’s already talked to Coran about making offers to Lance and Keith to stay on after the holiday season, assuming they’re willing; he knows they’re both students, but he figures when they’re not in the middle of the holiday rush, the store can be pretty flexible about working around their schedules. He’s got it on his calendar to talk to them about it on the twenty-sixth, already has his speech all planned out about the contributions they’ve made to the store thus far and how well they fit into the current Voltron Coffee team. 

The afternoon gets busier, and Shiro has to chase off a few of Keith’s fan club because there is just not room for lurkers in the store right now, but they take it reasonably well, pulling faces and dragging their heels, but going when he puts a hand on his hip and scowls. It’s busy enough that Keith is handing out drinks just as fast as Lance, but there’s no helping it. He shoots Keith a thankful glance sometime around three pm, because he really does appreciate that Keith is willing to pitch in on everything, even the things that stress him out. Shiro makes a mental note to slip everyone a cookie after hours if there are any left as thanks for being such rockstars today.

It stays very busy well up to the dinner hour, and the customers are getting less happy and less patient. It’s into the last-minute-shoppers and the people who’ve just arrived from out of town and are tired and grouchy from travel, but the team perseveres. Shiro knows he has whipped cream in his hair and coffee down the back of his shirt, but he can’t take the time to care. Allura’s bun is sprouting tendrils from the humidity in the shop created by the melting snow tracked in on customers’ shoes. Hunk’s taking a disco nap on a cot in the back room while dough rises, and Pidge and Lance are both vibrating with the amount of sugared caffeine they’ve imbibed, but if it means they’re keeping up with the crowd, Shiro can’t bring himself to care. 

He’s crossing behind Keith when he hears it, and at first he thinks he’s misheard: surely no one would actually say something  _ that  _ inappropriate in public, where anyone could hear. He turns on instinct, his expression incredulous, and sees the hand the guy has wrapped around Keith’s arm, the leer on his face as he leans in. Shiro’s moving before he realizes it, his first intention being to get the man’s hand off of Keith’s body, but then he registers both the words coming out of the man’s mouth and the look of utter revulsion and upset on Keith’s face, and his brain whites out, unable to process any thought beyond  _ how dare he _ .

\--

“Wow, Shiro,” Lance exclaims in the aftermath with a little too much glee, “I’ve never seen someone get punched clean out like that before! I thought that was a thing that only happened in the movies”

Shiro hangs his head as Pidge sneaks a bag of ice onto his knuckles. He can’t remember the last time he felt this embarrassed. He’s a big guy, always has been, but he’s never been aggressive, and he doesn’t know how to fit the sudden knowledge of this new violent capability in with the rest of his identity. He’s an athlete, he knows his size and his strength, and sure, he’s used it to intimidate assholes as needed, but he hasn’t actually  _ hit  _ anyone other than in akido class since grade school. 

“I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges,” Shiro mumbles, hoping the ice on his hand will also bring down the flush in his face. 

“If he does, he’ll get what’s coming to him,” Lance mutters, “that dude’s been bugging Keith for weeks. We’ve got witnesses.”

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t lose my job,” Shiro says, bringing up his free hand to cover his eyes. 

“Nonsense,” Allura says from the door to the break room, “We’ll explain to Coran, and he’ll back us up. The store wouldn’t function without you.” Shiro looks up to shoot her a look of pure gratitude and she smiles before gesturing at Lance and Pidge. “Come on, you two- it’s still two more minutes until close, and we’ve got customers. Get out here and serve them, and then help me and Hunk clean up.”

Lance and Pidge scurry out to do her bidding, and then Shiro’s left alone with Keith and his own mountainous sense of mortification.

Keith clears his throat, and Shiro looks up at him questioningly.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and won’t look Shiro in the eye. Shiro blinks.

“For what?” he asks, in genuine confusion. “I’m the one who went all berserker and punched out a customer.” He shakes his head. “Half the customers are going to be terrified of me now,” he sighs, “and maybe my co-workers, too.”

“ _ No _ ,” Keith says fiercely, and Shiro inhales in surprise at his tone as Keith jumps off his perch and stalks across the small space to stand in front of Shiro, his body radiating fury. “You’re a good guy, Shiro, everyone knows that.  _ We  _ certainly know that. And the customers, too- you’d never do anything like that without having a damn good reason.” He pushes forward to stand knee-to-knee with Shiro, gaze full of fire. “We’re not afraid of you,” Keith says, his eyes daring Shiro to look away, “ _ I’m _ not afraid of you,” he adds in a whisper, and Shiro’s heart aches.

Shiro clears his throat against the emotions that seem to have lodged there, and reaches out with his good hand to catch at Keith’s fingers. It’s inappropriate, but given the circumstances, he thinks he can be forgiven. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that he was harassing you?” Shiro asks gently. “I would never have let that go on. I would have banned him from the store. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith ducks his head again. “I just wanted it to go away. I thought I could handle it, and I didn’t want you to have to get involved. You do so much for all of us,” he trails off, and Shiro thinks the sound of his heart pounding must be audible from space. “I wanted to make you proud,” Keith says finally, his chin coming up in a challenge even as his eyes shine with feeling.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro whispers, unable to find the words to respond to this new bit of information.

“We’re off the clock, right?” Keith says quickly, and Shiro frowns at the non-sequitur. He glances at the wall over Keith’s shoulder; it’s 8:02 pm. 

“Yes?” he answers, and the look that lands on Keith’s face is triumphant.

“ _ Good _ ,” he says, and grabs Shiro by his apron to drag him into a kiss.

\--

Shiro ends up forcing himself out of bed around noon to make the macaroni casserole after all. It’s enough to feed two for the rest of the day.


End file.
